Go Fish
by Violent-Medic
Summary: Doc didn't usually hate or curse things. But right then? He hated Church for giving him a gift card to the Mother of Invention, most well-known brothel in the city, and for putting him in this situation to begin with. And he cursed his own inexplicable attraction to people with crazy eyes. Brothel!AU. Primary pairings are Wash/Doc, Church/Tex and Tucker/North. More inside.


**Pairings:** Primarily Wash/Doc, with sides of Church/Tex and, for a reason unknown even to myself, Tucker/North. There's also, in lesser capacities, Wash/Felix, Simmons/CT (with implied one-sided Grimmons), Director/any-blond-freelancer, Caboose/Sheila, past Doc/O'Malley as well as a million briefly mentioned/implied pairings given that this is a brothel!AU. I only listed the ones that came up more than one or two sentences.

**Warning:** No on-screen sex, but a lot of sex-related talk (some of it very crude) and mentions of violence.

**A/N:** This is not a serious thing, though I tried to make it make sense. This is what I have wasted my buffered Murderer's Row time on. Please don't judge me. May write more stories related to this AU in the future, hence a lot of random indications at other things going on, but this story stands on its own. It is actually a rewrite of something I wrote exactly three or four years ago (the original incomplete fic was also posted on Christmas, Merry Christmas by the way) that I improved and completed.

* * *

It started on Doc's birthday.

Doc's birthdays were never big occasions. He didn't know many people. Plus, aside from Donut, who seemed to have memorized every excuse for a party and cake in the known universe, usually no-one remembered Doc's birthday. Rather than organizing a party, Doc instead decided to just play cards with Caboose. Caboose, of course, didn't know the rules to any card game, so what they ended up playing was a game where each of them made up rules until someone got bored.

So, it was a normal day. With Doc nodding patiently as Caboose explained the new rule that two heart cards meant that the doctor-man came in and rearranged everyone's card hands with his screwdriver, while Donut sung showtunes from the kitchen as he baked birthday cake. It was really nice, seeing as Doc was used to spending these occasions drinking herbal tea by himself while wearing a party hat.

Then Church turned up and threw a gift card at him. With that card, he ruined everything.

"Happy birthday, blah blah blah, so on and so forth, here's your present," Church grumbled.

"A gift card? That's really nice of—um." Upon examining the gift card, Doc went bright red and nearly dropped it. "Um, I think you made a mistake. This is for a brothel."

"Not just any brothel. Fucking Mother of Invention, bitch. I sort of forgot about the birthday thing until, like, fifteen minutes ago. So I just stole that from work." Church shrugged. "Besides, better than throwing some lousy birthday card with a cat on it at you."

"I like those cards," Doc mumbled. "Um, Church, not that I don't appreciate the thought, but... um... I

don't think it's really my kind of... place?"

"You worried about diseases? You don't have to, there's routine checks. It's bad for business if someone's dick turns green and falls off."

"I made cupcakes while we wait for the proper cake!" Donut called out, balancing a tray of red velvet cupcakes as he entered the room. Upon seeing Doc clutching the gift card, he let out a little gasp, placing the cupcakes on the coffee table before snatching the card out of Doc's hands. "Oooooh, Mother of Invention! They have the best-looking guys! Except for maybe those guys at the Staff of Charon."

"How many brothels do you frequent?" Church muttered.

"Best butts at the Mother of Invention, though." Donut looked at Church with puppy-dog eyes. "Can I have a gift card, too?"

"Fuck no! Dad's gonna get mad if we don't have our profits high enough, I can't just throw gift cards at you cheap bastards."

"Aww." Donut sighed, flopping onto a sofa while Caboose picked up one of the cupcakes, clearly not comprehending the conversation. "Hey, I heard Tucker's going there tomorrow, though. You should come as well! Group fun!"

"Where are we going? Is it a best friend activity?" Caboose asked, in between bites of his cupcake.

"Umm... not exactly, Caboose." Donut pushed his hair back, nose scrunched up as he thought about a way to explain it, before saying, "It's a building where people don't wear pants as often as they normally would."

"No pants time building? Is it that place that smells like sticky things?" Caboose asked.

"Yes?"

"...I do not want to go."

"Uh. I'd rather not go, either," Doc mumbled. "Prostitution is very exploitative."

"Doc, it's rude to reject a gift. So quit bitching."

"I wasn't bitching..."

The subject was dropped immediately after because Donut, it turned out, had decided to run a party anyway and a horde of complete strangers turned up. Doc spent the rest of his birthday hiding in the corner with a cup of herbal tea, sometimes trying to make conversation but being drowned out by the noise. At least it was a distraction.

* * *

The Mother of Invention was not entirely a brothel. If one entered from the front, they would instead find themselves in a reasonably priced restaurant and bar. Clean, relatively modest and with some delicious food that was served by two siblings named Eta and Iota. Gamma ran the bar and Theta, far too young to even venture into the rest of the Mother of Invention, swept the floors and tidied up.

The restaurant got a fair share of customers. But it wasn't what most people visited the Mother of Invention for. Most customers, instead, entered through the back.

"Can't I just spend the gift card in the restaurant instead?" Doc asked. He was resisting in the most passive way he could. By lagging behind and hoping that, like so many other times, they'd forgotten about him. Unfortunately, Donut had grabbed his arm and was pulling him along with much enthusiasm.

"I checked, it's only good for the brothel. Don't worry, Doc. Just have a look, and if you don't see anyone that catches your eye... then I'll borrow your gift card and you can lie to Church and say you used it."

Doc didn't want to lie. And giving away birthday presents seemed just as rude.

Meanwhile, Tucker was a few paces ahead and grinning like an idiot. "Like he won't see anyone he likes. I mean, have you seen the chicks here?"

"Yes. I'm not a fan. I mean, even if I liked girls... most of them are really scary," Donut said, sticking out his tongue.

"Half-sharks are a thing, sure. But come on, have you seen Tex? And C.T is great if you ignore that she has a crazy boyfriend—"

"He seemed alright to me, I think he just hates you."

"Nah, he's crazy. I'm going to try South today. I hear she does amaaaazing blowjobs. So I got dibs." Tucker let out a melodramatic sigh. "I just wish Carolina worked. I mean, work-worked, not just did all that desk stuff. Sad."

"Should you really be proclaiming that you want to bang Church's sister?" Donut asked.

"Hey, it's a compliment."

Doc's quiet resistance wasn't working at all, and so he was marched into the brothel without Donut even properly realising he was dragging his feet.

The inside of the place was... nice. Lots of dark colours and velvety seats, as well as several lace-coloured tables which wouldn't have looked out of place in Donut's bedroom. It looked classy, were it not for... well, the prostitutes that were sitting around trying to look good enough to be worth the rates.

Donut seemed to have put it upon himself to explain the qualities of every male prostitute he saw.

"Okay, he's pretty good. That guy's really good, super gentle, total boyfriend experience if you're into that. Now, that guy is great if you're into the rough stuff, hurts in a really good way. Massive package, too, so win-win! Now... ugh, that guy has no creativity or passion, it was like humping a plank of wood. Oh, and he was good, but his mustache kept making me laugh and it really tickled—"

In an attempt to block Donut out without being rude, Doc focused his attention on the ceiling. He noticed a round, bright blue light in the center of the ceiling, which almost seemed to move like a human eye. It gave Doc the creeps.

Tucker, clearly at ease, strode up to the reception desk and tapped on it to attract the attention of the red-haired woman who was working there.

Unlike the prostitutes, many of whom were dressed in ways that showed what they were selling, she was dressed in a plain, black suit. The only splash of colour was a teal tie to go with it. Doc hadn't met Madam Carolina before, but she was well-known as a very formidable woman who showed no mercy to anyone who messed with her employees. Although her father, the Director, owned the building, she ran the day-to-day business. Meanwhile, Church managed the finances (he had a surprisingly good head for numbers) as well as the employees in the non-brothel portion of the Mother of Invention. Plus, there was Tex. Easily top earner out of all the prostitutes.

It was a very weird family business.

Carolina's expression soured slightly upon seeing Tucker. "Don't you ever go home?"

"Occasionally." Tucker glanced around. "Is South free?"

"South? She's—" Carolina paused for a moment before continuing. "She'll be ready in five minutes. She's cleaning up, so I'll send her right after. You looking for anything different or just the usual things?"

"Usual stuff."

Carolina threw a key card at Tucker, which he caught deftly with one hand. "Well, you know the way around. Room 2. Don't even try breaking into one of the other rooms. FILSS will tell me."

"You got it." Tucker grinned at Doc and Donut before heading through the door to the left of the reception desk. Carolina brushed a few strands of hair out of her face before looking at Doc. She frowned.

"You're not a regular. Did Church forget a birthday and throw gift cards again?" she huffed. Doc nodded. "I told him to stop... well, can't do anything about that now. You want me to line anyone not working up?"

"Um. Uh, no, that's okay. I wouldn't want to disturb them..."

"Disturb them? It's their job, you'll only annoy them if you don't pick them."

"Well, I mean... I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings and..." Doc looked at the floor. "Um. I mean, I can see people fine from here, right?"

"I suppose. Donut, what about you?"

"I've met everyone. I'll pick after Doc," Donut said. "Just in case he changes his mind and lets me have the gift card."

"I can't give away a gift," Doc mumbled.

"You don't look like you do this much... so I'll give you the rundown. This gift card will cover half-an-hour of basic intercourse with the woman or man of your choice. Anything extra or extended time will have to be negotiated with who you pick. Get too rough and try to cheat them, and you will regret it."

"I wouldn't do that." Doc would never consider it just because of common human decency. But also because he'd heard that the last person to cause trouble in the Mother of Invention had 'accidentally' fallen out of a window. Twice.

"Good. Here's a menu."

"You have menus?" Doc peered at the (thankfully pictureless) pamphlet Carolina handed him, and almost immediately went scarlet again and shut his eyes after reading only a few of the acts listed. Just a glance at it told him that there were some risque acts for sale, getting slowly kinkier and more specialised the further down the list they were. "Oh my god, I didn't even... I didn't even know some of these were things."

Donut, peering over Doc's shoulder, pointed at something in the lower third of the list and said, "That one's really good." Doc was afraid to open his eyes and see what it was.

Carolina reached out and took the menu back, her expression one of pity. "You look like you're going to die of shock. No judgment here if you're into anything kinky, if that's what you're worried about. Trust me, there is not much you could request that would scare us. But I can just schedule you in for something vanilla, if you want."

"Um. ...Sure." Doc's brain screamed at him to back out while he could, but his mouth just ignored him. "That sounds okay."

"Alright. Just pick someone and you're ready to go. You sure you don't want the line-up?"

"No, I'm okay." Doc was not okay. He was too embarrassed to look around. So he decided to do what he normally did when he couldn't decide what herbal teas or healthy, whole-wheat bread brands he wanted to buy. He shut his eyes and pointed in a random direction. "That person."

"Doc... that's a lamp," Donut said. "I could pick for you, if you're that indecisive. I know what you like!"

"That's okay!" Having his roommate pick out a prostitute for him would just make this more awkward. So Doc tried pointing again. "That person."

There was a moment of silence, before Donut said, "Eugh, he's so unimaginative, though. I mean, great butt. But no passion."

"Don't be rude. Washington's fine. Might be good in this case, he's not likely to try anything too different without prompting. Wash! Client!" Carolina called out. Doc opened his eyes to see Carolina throw a key card over his head in the direction he'd pointed at. "Gift card. Half-an-hour, go classic or with a half and half. Don't scare the kid, alright?"

"Fine."

Doc finally summoned the courage to turn around.

…He was not prepared.

He tried not to stare. He really did. And he tried not to think anything along the lines of 'darn it, he's hot.' Especially because, given that he wasn't wearing a shirt under that leather vest, he was quite cold and to declare him 'hot' would be inaccurate and probably offend him. Doc totally did not stare at the tight jeans. He definitely kept his gaze at eye level.

No, wait. That was even more of a mistake. Because Wash had these pale, slightly mad eyes. He had crazy eyes, and gosh darn it Doc had always had some inexplicable attraction to crazy eyes. Darn it, Doc's mindset about prostitution being exploitative and not something he would ever engage willingly in was somewhat challenged just then.

"Negotiate what you want for anything extra, but I'd try to get back out here as soon as you're done. You have a quota to meet. Room 5."

Washington nodded before gesturing for Doc to follow him. Doc thought he had frozen in fear for a moment, but he managed to force his legs to move. Donut made a thumbs up at Doc as they left.

The walk to the room was difficult. Partly because Doc was trying not to stare and confirm Donut's opinion of 'nice butt.' And partly because the walls didn't block all sound and he kept hearing... noises. It just increased the mortification. Doc tried to quietly melt into the floor while Wash stopped at a door, fumbling with the keycard. He swiped it and a female voice suddenly spoke up, making Doc jump and make an undignified squeaking noise.

"Welcome to Room 5, Washington and..." the voice paused for a moment, then said, "Guest. Would you like to register into the client database?" A panel next to the door had lit up, glowing blue and with the letters FILSS up the top.

"Um. The door is talking," Doc whispered.

"The Director is very concerned with security," Wash said dryly. "It's best not to ask why."

"Uhhh... no, I don't need to register! I'm not a client. I mean... I sort of am, but—no, I'm not!" Doc half-shouted at the glowing blue panel.

"FILSS, just put him down under an alias or something," Wash muttered impatiently.

"Affirmative, Washington. I will record your client under 'Confused Guest.' Please inform me of when you wish to change that alias."

Wash said a thank you under his breath as he pushed open the door, Doc following him in while still willing himself to melt into the carpet.

Thankfully, the room itself was quite simple. Clean, cushy bed. A cabinet and a bedside table with drawers and a nice lamp. A door that seemed to lead to a small bathroom. Similar to a regular hotel room. It was quieter in here, but it still didn't entirely block out the noises. Whoever was in the next room was very vocal.

"Well?"

"Uh... well, what?" Doc mumbled. Wash rolled his eyes before moving across the room and sitting down on the bed. At the same time, he started to remove his vest.

"Do you want to be on top or on the bottom? Do you want a blowjob or do you just want to go right in? You're on the clock, so you better figure it out fast."

"Uh. Uhhhhhh..."

Doc wasn't the sort of person who hated things. Nor was he the kind of person who cursed people. But right then? He hated Church and cursed that stupid, stupid gift card.

* * *

Tucker knew the way to each room better than the back of his hand. On his way, he passed Tex. She was tidying her hair with her fingers and trying to make it look less mussed.

"Looking tasty for a half-shark," Tucker muttered as he walked by.

"I'm going to cut out your kidneys if you say that again," Tex snapped back.

"Nice to see you, too."

Tucker pushed open the door to Room 2, after saying a brief and cheerful hello to FILSS, and immediately flopped onto the bed, completely at ease. The brothel was like a second home to him. Hell, maybe even a first home. He certainly spent enough time there to qualify. Bless Church and his easy access to discounts. Bless the Church family and their weird career choices.

He heard FILSS address someone outside before the door swung open. Tucker sat up properly, grinning wider at the blonde vision in front of him. Then his shoulders slumped and he let out a huffing noise.

"...North. What."

"Dammit!" North snapped his fingers and grinned sheepishly. "Well, I didn't think that was going to work, but it was just a really tempting bet."

"Seriously, what the hell? I asked for South." Tucker eyed North's very short skirt (just long enough to disguise any obvious signs of manliness) and stockings, before looking at his wig and carefully done make-up. Whoever'd helped him with his clothes was good. He did look very like South, though not quite good enough to trick Tucker.

"Ah, yeah. She's not here today. It's her day off."

"Why didn't Carolina just say so?!"

"Don't know. Have you hit on her lately?"

"No," Tucker said defensively. North's expression clearly doubted him. "...Okay, yeah. A few times."

"Anyway, basically she'd pay me double what you'd pay if I could get your pants off without you realising who I was. And I was already dressed and needed to practice the whole 'look like South' thing because we've got a shared client who likes to play the 'which twin is this' game and I keep messing it up." North shrugged. "What gave it away?"

"Well, I fucking know you, for one. And also you should, you know... cover the shoulders a bit more? You got broader shoulders. I mean, you got everything else pretty close, especially the, uh... legs." Tucker looked at those goddamn calf muscles and stockings and man, could North work those heels. Tucker tried to discreetly cross his legs. "Uh. So... uh. Are there any actual girls out there that I can hire?"

"Most of them are busy. I think Tex just finished so—"

"No."

"And C.T's also out there."

"Uhhh, I don't want to go there again. C.T's great, but her boyfriend is really nuts."

"I'm pretty sure he just hates you."

"Why does everyone say that?" Tucker whined, flopping back on the bed. "I'm charming and likable, people don't hate me. There's really no-one but Tex and C.T?"

"Not at the moment."

"You guys need more chicks."

Tucker really did not want to leave without hiring anyone. Especially given that he was now experiencing a very uncomfortable awkward boner. Goddamn North and his legs. It was all the stockings and heels, Tucker insisted to himself.

North's eyes flickered down and a grin crossed his face. "Am I good enough for you to appreciate the effort, then?"

Tucker pulled a face at him. "No. I was thinking about something else."

"Yeah?" North slid a hand over his upper thigh, skimming the edge of his skirt. "No appreciation at all? You just said I did a good job on the legs."

"Sure, from a... technical... point of... view..." Tucker trailed off, watching those calf muscles shift slightly as North moved, parting his legs a little more. "Uh. ...You've got like... a thing where you can't tell people what happened in here, right?"

"Sure do."

"...How are your blowjobs?"

"Very good. Way better than South's, I'll have you know. ...Not that I know personally or anything, because that's just gross." North sat on the edge of the bed, fingers reaching out to brush Tucker's thigh. "I won't even charge for the cross-dressing. Normally that's extra, but... special circumstances, given that this was more of a prank than anything. Good deal, you know."

After a moment of hesitation Tucker decided that, whatever, he'd only get to live once.

"Fuck it. If Carolina asks, I didn't realise."

"Sweet, I can tell her I won the bet."

* * *

"Just so you know, you've been standing there for about five minutes," Wash said flatly, still sitting on the bed and waiting for Doc to do something besides stutter. By now Doc was feeling so warm that he could have cooked bacon on his face. The only upside was that the blood was pounding in his ears so loudly that he couldn't hear the noises from the other rooms. Although he could still hear Wash say, "This still counts as being on the clock, you know."

"Uhhh... ehhhh... uh," Doc spluttered.

Doc told himself to stop gawking. It wasn't like he'd never seen people shirtless before. He was a doctor! He saw naked people all the time! Admittedly, he didn't usually pay them to undress, and most people who visited the free clinic weren't that good-looking, but still...

"Okay, if this is some weird kind of foreplay, or roleplay, or any other kind of play, then I don't see what it does for you."

Wash's bed manner was terrible. It was not helping. It was just making Doc remember more clearly why he wasn't on board with this 'paying a stranger to have sex with him' thing. Regardless of how attractive they were.

"Ehhh...ah... um. Can you, um... can you put the vest back on?"

"Why? ...Do you have a leather kink? You should have specified that up front."

"No! No, I would just... feel more comfortable if you were covered up."

"If you want me to keep my clothes on that's going to make this a lot more difficult," Wash muttered. "I don't want to get anything stuck in my zipper." Under his breath, he added, "Again."

"Uhhhhh..." Doc did the first thing that came into his head. Which was to hold out his hand for a handshake. It didn't feel right to be staring at someone he was meant to have sex with without introducing himself. "...Hi. I'm Frank DuFresne. People call me Doc."

Wash stared at the hand dubiously. "...I don't care."

"Oh. Um... Sorry." Doc withdrew his hand and, mostly to stop them nervously twitching, he shoved both of them in his pockets. His fingers brushed something. A pack of cards. "You want to play Go Fish?"

"Go Fish? ...You realise you're in a brothel, right?"

"Yeah, um. See, Church gave me this gift card... and I didn't want to give it back, because that's rude..."

"Oh. I was wondering why you were pointing at the lights earlier. Picking randomly?"

"Yeah! And, um... I would rather not do... do what you were paid for, so... do you want to play Go Fish? Or another card game? I don't like betting money, because gambling puts too much pressure on the participants, but just harmless, non-threatening card games are good."

Wash's expression was not promising. It looked like he was debating Doc's state of sanity. But then he shrugged.

"Go Fish is fine."

"Really? Great! ...Um, can you put the vest back on?"

"It barely covers anything. What's the difference?"

"Please?"

"...Fine."

* * *

"Oh, you've got to be fucking joking..." Church grumbled, face pressed so hard into the ledger that the page was sticking to his forehead. "How the fuck?" He glared at the profit margins like staring angrily would somehow increase the money flowing in. "Fucking bullshit."

"What's bullshit?"

"Gah, fuck!" Church yelled, spinning around on his chair to face Tex, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air despite the fact that those heeled boots looked impossible to walk in. "How'd you even get in? The door's locked!"

"I asked FILSS to open it."

"But... but I specifically said... why do you have better clearance stuff than me? Technically I'm your boss."

"Hah, sure you are." Tex shoved Church to the side before peering down at the ledger. "So what's fucking bullshit?"

"Profits are way down. I'm pretty sure it's because people keep ditching this place and going to the Staff of Charon instead. Which is bullshit in itself. What the fuck do they have that we don't?"

"Amputees and twins that will do things the Dakotas won't?" Tex suggested.

"That doesn't cover that big a market, does it?"

"Hey, all kinds of weirdos out there."

"Urgh... great, gonna have to compile all of this and present it to Dad—or get Carolina to do it—and you know how he gets when we're not doing as good as he thinks we should be. Like he ever fucking does anything." Church leaned back on his chair, looking up at Tex. "So, uh... what are you up here for?"

"Figured I'd save you the trouble of awkwardly lingering around the front desk to try and figure out when I'm free without alerting Carolina." Tex leaned over and pushed Church's chair back until it bumped into the wall. "Assuming you can pay your usual prices with all this panic about profits and all."

Church let out a long breath before reaching up to cup Tex's face. "Yeah, well... me hiring you comes out of my wages, it doesn't impact shit."

"Good." Tex took a step back so that she was out of reach again, grinning down at him. "Because I was thinking I should up my rates, you know?"

"Oh, come on!"

"I need money for better handcuffs, those piece of shit ones that you supply us with keep breaking. I want special ones." Tex took another step back. "I mean, I can always take my business to a proper client. You know, one that doesn't try to cuddle afterward and who Carolina won't lecture me for fucking. Because seriously, I'm getting real sick of the whole 'by the way, you're disgusting' lecture. Especially since you're the one with the, you know... creepy incesty feelings and all."

"Okay, first off, it's not incest. We're stepsiblings. The word 'step' makes it not weird."

"It's still weird. But whatever, I don't care as long as you pay. But if you just can't meet my prices..." Tex unzipped the front of her black, shiny top. "I'll just have to take all this—" She quickly opened the top, just long enough to refresh Church's memory at the fantastic body she was packing, before shutting it again and zipping up. "—to someone who's less cheap."

"No, no, wait!" Church scowled at her for a moment before staring down. "...Look, I'll fucking pay, alright? You know that. How long you got?"

"However long you got the money for, freak."

"Bitch."

* * *

"Got any sevens?"

"Go Fish. ...Got any fours?"

It was at this point that a knocking came at the door. Both Doc and Wash looked up from their cards. They were both sitting on the bed at this point, Doc curled up at one end with Wash sprawled out at the other. They were using the section in the middle as an impromptu card table.

"Two minutes left. Finish up in there, I need to change the sheets!" a voice said.

"Okay!" Doc looked down at his cards. "Who has the most cards this time?"

"You. Means you win two to one," Wash said, handing his cards back to Doc.

"Ooh, awesome. ...I didn't make you feel bad or anything, did I?"

"It's a card game. Of course not."

"Alright. This was actually pretty fun, uh... what's your name?"

"Washington."

"Is that your real name? Or is it, like, a stage name?" Doc backtracked. "Um, not that I'm implying you dance around on stages as well, I just meant..."

"I can dance. ...Kind of. I'm better than Maine and his dinosaur moves. And we don't give out our real names. It's a safety thing. This job sometimes attracts disturbed people, and having them able to look up our phone numbers and addresses is obviously not good."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry."

"It's alright. Just call me Wash. Most people do."

"Okay."

* * *

"Details?" was Donut's first word when Doc found him sitting on one of the velvety seats in the reception.

"Did you even leave this room?" Doc asked.

"I got caught up talking to Maine and by the time he got called away it was, like... two minutes ago. That guy just wouldn't shut up. Lovely accent, though. Good pick, if you come back. I should have remembered why I was here and gone for it," Donut sighed regretfully.

"Um. Okay."

"But details? I just want to know if Wash was having a bad day last time. Because if it turns out all that emotionless, stoic, passionless stuff was just a one time thing then I will climb him like a tree."

"Um." Doc scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. He'd been embarrassed just to walk into the brothel, but admitting that he'd chickened out of doing anything to Donut was another kind of embarrassed. "We played Go Fish."

"That's an euphemism, right?"

"No, that's... literally what we did. I won twice."

"...Really? You played non-sexy games instead of lending me the gift card? Aww."

"Oh, you had to see that coming. Doc pussed out. He always does," Tucker said as he arrived with a huge grin on his face. "I mean, not that you missed out on anything with Wash. He's always got a stick up his ass, so you wouldn't be able to fit anything else up there."

"Can we just go? Please?" Doc pleaded.

"Yeah, sure."

"Uh?" Donut coughed discreetly before adding, "Tucker? You got lipstick on the front of your jeans. Like... a lot of lipstick."

"The fuck am I supposed to do about that? If I try to wipe it off it'll look like I'm jacking off. Who jacks off while leaving a brothel? People who pussed out, that's who. Exhibit A: Doc."

"Please stop," Doc mumbled underneath his breath.

"Well, South needs a no-stick lipstick or something. Ooh, I should go back and recommend some brands—" Donut started to turn back before Tucker grabbed his arm.

"No! Uh..." Tucker cleared his throat nervously before grinning again. "No, she... probably knows. I'll tell her next time. Yeah."

"Heh, seeing someone twice, Tucker? Must have been good," Donut said, shoving him lightly.

"Well, can't lie about that..."

* * *

"How. The. Fuck." Church raised a piece of paper, glaring daggers at Carolina. "Why the fuck do we have a hospital bill for Utah?"

"He messed up, ended up in the emergency ward. He'll probably be fine, but he was injured on the job so we have to pay his bills. Also, we need to take erotic asphyxiation off the menu."

"Oh. Ohhhh. ...Ew."

"Shut up, Church. You fuck your sister."

"Stepsister! I mean... what? I, uh... totally don't do that... anymore..."

Carolina glared over the binder she was looking at. "You think I don't know? Tex vanishes for an hour without stopping by the reception and picking up a keycard. Where else would she have gone?"

"You and your fucking detective work."

"It's common sense and logic! Something that you don't have, whatever your skill with adding up numbers is." Carolina shook her head before looking back down at the ledger. "It's disgusting is what it is. This entire family is just..."

"Fucked in the head? God, think I don't know it?" Church tossed the hospital bill to the side. "I think maybe Epsilon had the right idea, sometimes."

"Stealing a bunch of our savings and running off? You think that was the right choice?" Carolina said dryly.

"Well..." Church propped his chin on his hand, frowning at the mass of papers that threatened to swallow his desk. "He doesn't have to deal with all this paperwork and shit. Or of giving reports. Speaking of which—"

At the exact same time, Church and Carolina touched their noses and said, "Not it."

"Fuck, we need a better way of deciding," Church muttered, though he grinned as he said it.

"Yeah..."

"...Rock-Paper-Scissors?" Carolina didn't reply, instead staring down at the ledgers gloomily. Church frowned, then leaned back on his chair. "Alright, I'll do it."

"I can do it if I have to," Carolina said quietly.

"Yeah, but you know... he always hates me, so a little bit more disappointment won't hurt. Whatever, it's not like I give a shit."

"No, it's fine. I can do it. I don't need you to cover for me."

"Jesus, I thought you didn't want to—"

"It's fine!" Carolina snapped.

"Alright. Jeez." Church crossed his arms. "Well, I hope you have some great accomplishment or something to soften the news that our profits are plummeting with."

"Unless he counts 'I tricked Tucker into letting North give him a blowjob' then I've got nothing. Also, that may have left another hole in the finances, because I bet North that he couldn't..."

"Alright, that's gold, and I'm so going to make fun of Tucker for it later—"

"Hey, confidentiality!"

"You're the one who said it! But also, what the fuck? You lost money for your damn bet?"

"Make up your mind on whether you're happy or not?"

"I can be happy about that piece of blackmail outside of work."

* * *

That should have been the end of it.

Doc still had no inclination to make visiting brothels a regular thing. He was meant to just get on with his life and pretend that he never received a gift card to begin with.

But his mind kept wandering back to Wash. Doc wasn't even sure why. Wash wasn't much of a conversationalist. Doc would have cast the blame at those tight jeans, were he the type to cast blame.

Maybe he just liked playing cards. The only person he could get to sit still long enough to do so was Caboose, who didn't understand how to play. Donut got distracted and bored easily and most other people would tell him to fuck off.

He tried to ignore any thoughts of Wash for about a week. Then he went trudging back to the brothel.

This time, he just peered inside without fully stepping in. He didn't see Wash. He was about to close the door and quietly leave when someone spoke up.

"Is there a problem, old boy?"

Doc yelped, jumping back and shutting the door. After a few seconds, he opened it again because he felt bad for screaming. The speaker was a man with very well-groomed mustache. He was dressed in a white suit, holding a pipe and looked somewhat out of place among the more revealing outfits.

"Um. Hello."

"Were you looking for something—or someone—in particular?" The man smiled, before blowing out a smoke ring. Doc wrinkled his nose but didn't say anything. "If you're not, and have just decided to browse, I can help you choose based on your tastes."

"...Are you one of the, um... do you work here?"

"Oh, yes. Wyoming, at your service. Should you choose to employ me, of course."

"You look different from the others."

"I'm classy. Some people like a quick, crude roll in the hay. Others prefer smooth talkers who maintain a certain standard in both appearance and etiquette. I cater to the later." Wyoming stuck the pipe in his mouth again before continuing. "If that is what you'd like, then I highly recommend myself."

"Uh, I'm not into hiring people. I just wanted to see Wash."

"If you're not interested in hiring him then I doubt he'll have the time. We all have a quota to meet, and Washington often has difficulties meeting it. I haven't seen him in the last hour, so he should be down soon. Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable, chum."

"Okay. Thank you."

At least the seats were comfortable. Even if they smelt like cigarette smoke.

"You're the Go Fish man, aren't you?"

"How'd you—"

"You and your friends weren't very quiet when you left last time. Half the brothel heard you." Wyoming let out a little chuckle and said, "Of course the only repeat customer he has would be one who never did anything intimate during the session—ah, speak of the devil. I told you your man would be down soon."

Doc watched as Wash entered the room, looking frazzled and surly. Doc clambered to his feet.

"Um, I have to go. It was nice meeting you!"

"Likewise, my friend. Come back and visit when you get bored of Washington's stoic attitude."

"Uhhh... sure."

Wash's expression went from grumpy to mildly confused when Doc approached.

"You again," he said.

"Yeah. Um... Hi."

"...Hi? Did you need something?"

"Uh." Doc tucked his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth nervously. "How much does it cost to take up an hour of your time?"

"Why? Change your mind?"

"No. I just... feel like playing cards."

Wash stared down at him for a few moments before shaking his head. "You're a very strange man."

"Does that mean no?"

"Oh, I'll play cards with you. I just think you're weird."

* * *

"...and I remembered that it was a Tuesday, because Tuesday is when I do laundry. Usually, I wear these cute jeans, which are adorable but they chafe so easily. So not good on laundry day, since I'm washing my underwear and all. So I said to myself, 'where can I hide with no pants on?'"

C.T didn't reply much. Most people didn't when Donut was really on a roll. It wasn't as if they could just get up and leave while they were having their hair done, and Donut was very good at what he did so most people put up with the chatter while he was styling and trimming their hair.

"Anyway... where was I going with this? Ah, nevermind, I'll remember eventually. So, you just want the haircut? Don't want Sister to do your nails or your face or anything? Don't get me wrong, though, you look adorable as it is. Short hair is a good look for you!"

"I'm fine. Just the hair."

"How's work? Get any smelly clients? I want details."

"Donut, you know I can't. Confidentiality and all that. I mean, you wouldn't want half the stuff you've done with Maine out in the open, would you?"

"Oh, I don't mind."

"Of course not."

"Hey, how do you know about it if it's confidential? How did Maine even tell you? Can you understand him through the accent? It's lovely, but I have such difficulty with it."

C.T coughed nervously before saying, "Well, anyway... job's the same as usual. What with the Director being an asshole and all. Don't know why the others bother to keep working with him, he takes such a huge cut of everything."

"Well... uh... why do you work there?"

"I got my reasons, and they aren't the same as the others."

"Oooooh, by the way, I meant to ask you... what's your policy on being hired outside the brothel?"

"Going straight, are you?"

"Eugh." Donut pulled a face as he combed back C.T's hair. "No, no way. I mean, don't get me wrong, if I had to pick a girl... but no. No, no, no. But seriously, what's your policy?"

"Well, that depends. Do you mean hiring for an escort job but still paying through the Mother of Invention? Or do you mean cutting out the Mother of Invention entirely?"

"Er, second one. See, I got this friend..."

"You have thousands of friends, Donut. I don't know how you can tell one apart from the others."

"He's one of my besties, though. I mean, he won't say that, but... anyway." Donut waved the comb around as he spoke. "He's, like, super repressed and shy. Load of issues. And I'm pretty sure he'd like a bit of experience—not sure about guy or girl, I mean my first assumption that he was gay but he says no—and so I figure it'll be much easier if I just hire him a hooker who won't judge him or anything. Right?" Donut trimmed a lock of C.T's hair and added, "Uh, you know him? Lanky? Ginger?"

"Hangs out with that fat Hawaiian guy? I thought they were—"

"Yeah, so did I, but... I don't know, neither of them probably have the balls to go through with it, they're so emotionally constipated, so maybe this will help! Or maybe my gaydar's broken again, that thing has been so whack lately... Anyway, I figure hiring a girl for the girlfriend experience might do him some good, but he's too embarrassed to walk into a brothel and I can't afford the Director's rates for outside it. But you'd get to keep the whole cut, right?"

"Hrrrm. Well, we're forbidden under contract to do any side work, and most wouldn't anyway because obviously the money wouldn't count towards their 'ranking' and they would spend time that wouldn't go on the Director's dumb fucking ranking board. Like some stupid competition."

"So—"

"Hadn't finished. Luckily, I don't give a shit about my ranking. Pay me half of what the Director charges and I'll do it."

"Aww, you're a doll, Connie."

"Don't call me Connie. It's C.T."

"But... it's such a cute name!"

"Exactly! It makes me sound like a fucking kid!"

* * *

"Why do you keep coming back?"

"Huh?" Doc looked up from his cards. They had switched from Go Fish and were playing poker today. Doc had brought a large amount of colourful macarons that Donut had made (every couple of months, Donut went berserk with cooking and just filled the kitchen with more pastries than they could eat in a year) and they were both using them as poker chips.

"Why do you keep hiring me?" Wash said bluntly. He was holding one of the macarons, a bright pink one with a cat face painted on it with icing that he kept turning over in his free hand. "Haven't you tried hiring anyone else?"

"No? Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm not the best conversationalist?"

"Aw, don't be down on yourself, Wash! I'm sure you're really good at talking when you feel like it!"

Wash shrugged. "That isn't usually while I'm working. If you want a real conversation, you should hire York or North. York has charm and North has comfort. Or C.T if you're not exclusively into guys. If you don't mind me saying so, I think Tex and South would smash you to pieces." Wash put down his hand of cards. "Four aces."

"Darn it." Doc pushed a few more macarons towards Wash before picking the deck up. "But I like hanging out with you."

"Your taste sucks," Wash said.

"So negative... Why are you trying to talk me out of visiting? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Doc asked, eyes widening behind his glasses.

"No. I was just curious. Besides, I'm not in a position to turn down money. Even if you were into really kinky stuff."

Doc frowned as he continued shuffling the deck. "...Are you allowed to turn down people?"

Wash considered this for a few moments, taking a small bite out of the macaron he was holding as he did so. "We don't take anyone with signs of disease. Or anyone who comes in drunk or is obviously trouble. We're not stupid. And Carolina is reasonable. If we say no, she will back us up."

"You hesitated."

"This is a job, Doc. Rejecting people isn't smart unless there's a very solid reason for it. Makes you look like you can't perform. If you can't perform, you get fired and you work the streets as a two-dollar streetwalker." There was clear derision in Wash's voice when he said those words. "I deal with unpleasant people, but the same goes for any job. Do you reject patients because they'd be inconvenient to treat or because they're unpleasant?"

"No... of course not..."

"And neither do I. It's the same thing."

Doc didn't think it sounded similar at all. A doctor's work was essential. People needed it to keep living. He was pretty sure the same didn't go for prostitution.

"...If you had more of a choice, would you say no to me?" Doc asked slowly. He was suddenly afraid that he'd been forcing Wash into uncomfortable situations, and even if that didn't include intercourse he suddenly felt really bad.

Wash considered him for a moment, looking at him with those darn crazy eyes. Doc looked down quickly at his cards again.

"Why would I? You pay me to play card games. Easiest money I ever made," Wash said, mouth twisting into a half-smile.

That dissolved the guilt a little.

"Though obviously you're free to go further," Wash added. "This is kind of overcharged just for card games."

_Yes. For the love of crumbcake, yes._

"Uhhh, um. ...That's okay."

_Stupid guilt._

* * *

While most of the workers had their own homes, it wasn't unusual for them to stay overnight or for a few days at the brothel. It made getting to work much easier, and the living conditions were decent. Obviously there were beds, as well as a small kitchen area and a room with a tiny television to relax in. It was nowhere near as fancy as the rest of the brothel, but it was comfortable enough.

Currently, Florida was standing at the stove cooking pancakes, despite it being very early evening. More clients came to the brothel at night, so Florida tended to treat early evening as if it were the crack of dawn. So while everyone else trudged around him, either tired from getting off a long shift or tired because they'd just woken up for their next shift, he was prancing around, tossing blueberries into the pancakes. Hair tied back, a frilly apron on, and singing at the top of his lungs.

"Florida, shut the fuck up!" South yelled from the table that had been crammed into the kitchen. It was a roomy kitchen, but not made to fit in so many people. South was drowning herself in coffee, while North was trying to reach around her for the sugar packets. Maine had barely managed to cram himself between York and Tex. The three of them were eating the first batch of pancakes. Wyoming was reading a newspaper and smoking a pipe, looking like a very picturesque 1920's father were it not for the fact that his suit was crumpled and that some rough customer had broken a couple of the buttons, and C.T was using her arms as a pillow and fast asleep at the table, hair pointing in different directions.

"South, that's no way to act so early in the morning."

"It's fucking six in the afternoon!"

"If you keep that attitude up, I won't put any blueberries in your pancakes," Florida said huffily, before immediately sliding back into song.

"Ughh." South submerged herself back in her coffee cup while North carefully shuffled past her, clinging to his own mug. He came very close to accidentally spilling it on a very tired Wash, who'd walked in and was now standing awkwardly to the side, as most of the space around the table had been taken.

"Coffee," Wash mumbled, even just that one word barely distinguishable, blinking around the room for a moment before distinguishing the coffee-coloured blur from every other blur in the room. He ducked under Florida's arm as he waved around a spatula.

"Mmph!" York tried to talk to Wash as he passed by, but couldn't make any distinguishable noises through his mouthful of pancakes. He chewed for a few long moments before swallowing the pancakes and saying, "I thought you were off today, Wash."

"Switched with Georgia."

"How much sleep did you get? I saw you working like... four hours ago."

"...Four hours, then. I guess."

"Wash, seriously? Get some rest," North said, as he shredded empty sugar packets with his fingers. "Four hours isn't enough."

"Quit mothering him, North. Let him fuck up all he wants," South grumbled.

"Hey!" Niner crammed her way into the kitchen, despite the fact that there was barely room to breathe already. She was dressed similarly to Carolina, except her suit was a pristine white. Her job was that of a chauffeur. On the occasions where particularly wealthy clients needed company outside the brothel, she'd drive them there. She wasn't only a driver for the prostitutes of the Mother of Invention. The Director had many businesses, even if the brothel was his bread and butter.

Niner reached over Maine and plucked the top pancake from his plate, ignoring his snarl. In between nibbling on it, she said, "Okay, so the Director sent me down here. Got some wealthy friend coming into town—I think he's a counselor or something—and they want some company to escort them around the city. Two, actually, wanted the best we have, so... Texas? York? You're at the top of the board right now, so... full night, very good rates. Less exhausting than working here?"

York poked at the pancakes on his plate, looking suddenly wary. "With Tex?"

"Director's orders. Carolina can't get mad at you for it," Niner said, still chewing on the pancake. "Maine, you gotta go easy on that maple syrup, buddy. What are you doing, trying to drown your food?" She stepped back, almost clipping York in the face with her elbow, as Maine growled and tried to snatch the pancake back. "Anyway, half an hour before I gotta drive you two."

"Right, right," York sighed. Tex hadn't said a word, instead choosing to just focus on her food.

"Also, uh... the Director wanted to see either North, South or Wash today. Whoever's most likely to make the least during the... time it'll take," Niner said quickly, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Uh, you know what he's like, so..."

York made an 'eugh' sound under his breath. North didn't say anything, but South and Wash both pointed at each other.

"Fuck off, Wash! You don't make shit, that's why you're skipping sleep!" South snapped. "Because you don't have any charm or any technique! They might as well stick googly eyes on a dildo!" York snorted at this, though he looked slightly apologetic about it. Maine started to get to his feet, but Wash shook his head and Maine sat back down.

"You'd be behind me if you didn't get by on the novelty of being a twin," Wash muttered. "You'd be doing just as bad if you didn't have North to pick up the slack."

"Fuck you! Fuck you, that's not all I have!"

"It's a big part of it!"

"At least I never sucked dick for a dollar, you streetwalking piece of—"

"South!" North said sharply.

Wash didn't have a retort, though he'd gone a very blotchy shade of pink. He looked about ready to punch South, but instead he just turned around and left, heading towards the Director's office.

"Eh? Wait, Wash! You forgot your pancakes!" Florida called after him, waving the pan around.

"Florida, stop that! You're going to burn someone's face off!" Wyoming chided him. "I would rather not lose my dashing good looks, thank you."

Maine turned to face South, growling something that sounded like 'too far.'

"What? It's not like I said anything that wasn't true!" South said, crossing her arms. North shook his head again, but didn't say anything.

* * *

There was an issue. Prostitutes were expensive, and Doc didn't make that much. He ran two part-time jobs, neither of which paid that well. Waiter at a coffee shop or a doctor at the free clinic, depending on the day. Sometimes both in one day, if he took extra shifts. Free time was also difficult to come by. But Doc still kept going to Wash, at least once every couple of weeks.

One week he couldn't afford it. Sometimes that was fine, but it was a day where he really just wanted to see Wash—er, play cards. Just play cards and quietly hang out. His mood drop must have been noticeable, because Donut started throwing bags of cookies in his face.

"Donut, I'm fine!"

"You're grumpy! You're doing your thing! That passive-aggressive 'I'm totally not grumpy but if you leave your cake decorator things on the kitchen counter one more time I will violate my pacifistic vows' thing you do."

"I don't do that!" Doc complained. He curled up on the sofa and turned over so he was facing the couch cushion. "It's just a little hard to relax when there's frosting everywhere."

Donut hovered around him, trying to peer at his face. "Isn't this normally when you go visit Wash?"

"That's not why I'm grumpy!"

"I'm a little worried about how much time you spend with him. He's not intimidating you into hiring him, is he?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Yeah, you're right. You wouldn't be grumpy about not being there if that were true." Donut leaned over him, pouting. "What's wrong with hanging out with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with hanging out with you."

That was a slight lie. Doc liked Donut very much, of course, but hanging out with him was incredibly difficult for extended periods of time. This was not due to Donut himself, because Donut was Doc's best friend. Though honestly, almost everyone Doc knew, he knew because of Donut. Really, there was only Donut and Doc's crazy ex-boyfriend from college who busted down his door ever couple of months.

The issue was that any invitation for Donut to hang out seemed to slide immediately into Donut assuming there was a party or a group activity on, and inviting over forty people to join them. Doc wasn't sure how, but Donut always seemed to know at least forty people ready to party at any given time. It was rather terrifying.

Sometimes Doc just wanted to quietly hang out with one or two people, doing something low-key. Donut just didn't do low-key. He was like a walking parade.

Donut frowned at him before shuffling off to the kitchen. A minute later, he returned and held out some money, still frowning.

"That's enough to see him. I know the prices."

"Donut, no, it's—" Doc started to protest, but Donut raised his hand.

"Look, I know that's why you're mopey. And also I was inviting some people over, and I'd be cool with you staying normally... but if you're going to be in a mood I'd rather you be over there. Besides, me and Sister are doing well at this whole 'running a salon' thing, so money's no problem. Just pay me back when you can."

"...Sorry."

"Don't apologise. But do me a favour." Donut sat down, staring at Doc with a worried expression. "Remember that Wash is a prostitute, no matter what you use him for. I don't mean anything bad by it, but if you get too invested in him you'll end up like Church. Mooning over Tex, hiring her all the time and trying to pretend she's his actual girlfriend." Donut shrugged. "I mean, I'm all for brothels and the people in them. Just don't... lose yourself in the fantasy, okay? That's unhealthy."

"...Right. I won't."

Donut clapped Doc on the shoulder. "Good to hear. Now go! Climb Wash like a tree!"

"I'm not climbing anyone!"

* * *

"God. Damn. It." Church banged his fist against the door. "FILSS! Let me out!"

He didn't get a response. Tex just watched him swear at the blue panel while she laced up her boots. Church screamed for a full two minutes before running out of breath and creative swearing.

"Fucking goddammit." Church kicked the door before saying, "Why the fuck does the Director pour so much money into security? Do you know?"

"Fuck if I do." Tex started tidying up a stack of papers that had been knocked over. "Just call Delta, tell him FILSS malfunctioned again."

"Yeah, right. You know Delta, he'll tell Carolina because 'Madam Carolina should know about all your slip-ups, Alpha.'" Church said this in a mocking attempt at Delta's monotone voice before reaching for his phone. "Nah, I got this. It'll take a little while longer, but at least Carolina won't get on my case."

"I have to get back to work," Tex pointed out.

"I'll hire you for another hour, whatever, you're fine. As long as Carolina doesn't bitch at me, I don't care."

"Alright, deal."

Church rifled through his contacts, shaking his head. "Ugh, can't believe I have to do this, but—" He clicked a contact and held the phone to his ear, already regretting his choice.

Almost immediately, Church had to pull the phone away from his ear because of the volume of the southern accent yelling back at him.

"Hello! You've reached 'A Little Purple' Auto Shop! Also known as Sarge's awesome robot lab! We're a little blue but mostly red, because red will always be better!"

"Sarge?"

"Eh? Aren't you that guy that does the numbers for that whorehouse between Sidewinder Road and Chorus Alley?"

"Yeah, I'm—"

"You're out distracting my men! I told Simmons, 'don't you get distracted by that vixen,' and he was all 'Sarge, stop shouting at me and what are you even doing in my apartment?'"

"Okay, first off, the fact that Simmons and Grif helped you drag pieces of a car into your garage for twenty bucks a piece does not make them 'your men.' And secondly, I'm not even trying to talk to you! I'm looking for Caboose!"

"Why? What's wrong with my gifts with machines?"

"Whenever you go near a machine you just spend the whole time trying to attach guns and explosives to it, that shit isn't what I want. No, I need Caboose. Can you just get him?"

"Ugh... you're making a mistake, son."

Church shook his head. He regretted ever introducing Sarge and Caboose. Sarge had taken immediate offence to the dumbass because Caboose liked wearing blue clothing and Sarge preferred red (who knew why he was so passionate about colours) but, as it turned out, Caboose had a ridiculous gift with machines and Sarge had eventually ended up hiring him. It was dangerous for anyone who went near Sarge's 'lab' on weekends, since together they'd managed to make some very dangerous robots. Sarge had a particular fondness for robot fighting, but any robo-fighter that Caboose touched tended to somehow turn on any master that wasn't him. It hadn't dissuaded Sarge at all.

Eventually, Church heard Caboose's voice.

"Church! Hello!"

"Yeah, hi, Caboose. Listen—"

"I tried asking Sarge to say hello to you for me, but he was too busy. We are making a robot. It is a stompy one! I think I will name him Freckles."

"Caboose, will you just listen to me?"

"Sure, Church!"

"You know where I work?"

"Sticky house?"

"Yes. Sticky house. What I want you to do is go there, go to my office, and have a talk with the glowing blue panel outside the door. Can you do that?"

"Are we going to do best friend things, Church?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I will be right there!"

"You told the idiot to talk to FILSS?" Tex asked skeptically as Church hung up. "I don't think that'll help."

"Don't worry, Caboose is good with programs like FILSS. Don't know why, but they just listen to him." Church sat down near Tex. "...Er. Sorry about this, by the way."

"Meh, don't worry about it. I'm still getting paid, so not like I give a shit." Tex pulled a face. "You're not as bad as your old man."

Church's expression darkened. "He bothering you?"

"No. I told him to shove off. As if I would go... there." Tex smiled humorlessly. "Contrary to what you might think, there's some places even I won't go for money. Men that my mother fucked are one of those places."

"Thank god for that." Church leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "...God, I'm going to grow up to be like him, aren't I?"

"Oh, you're definitely getting there."

"That's real comforting, Tex."

"Eh. At least you realise you're fucked in the head."

"...Thanks."

* * *

Doc didn't like being a waiter. A large part of his job was serving coffee, and Doc didn't like coffee. Too much caffeine. Over-stimulating. Made people jittery. He used to try recommending herbal teas as a substitute, but the owner made him stop because he was annoying the customers.

Doc blinked sleepily as he balanced some plates of food. He'd taken on extra shifts a lot lately. Partially because the diner was understaffed. Partially because, in all honesty, he could not afford to go see Wash as much as he did.

Placing the dishes he was balancing in front of a couple of hungry customers while trying not to look openly tired, he saw a familiar figure walk in and sit down at one of the booths. The only reason it took Doc so long to properly recognise him—long enough for him to walk close enough to take orders—was that he'd never seen Wash in something that wasn't tight and revealing before. It only really clicked when Wash spotted him and Doc got a glimpse of those eyes that were in a persistent state of 'about to snap and kill someone.'

Gosh darn it, those eyes should still not be attractive.

Doc had a brief moment of panic where he wanted to turn around and flee. But unfortunately, Wash had seen him too. There was a long moment of awkward silence.

"Uhhh... hey, Wash!" Doc said, his voice an octave higher than normal.

"...Doc?" The expression on Wash's face was best described as confused. He tilted his head, squinting slightly as he rubbed his gloved hands together. It was particularly cold out. "You, uh... you work here?"

"...Oh, right! Uh, is there anything you want? I mean, of course you do, you're here, so you probably want food or coffee or something, uh..." Doc shifted nervously on the spot while brandishing his hands at the little plastic menus on the tables. He cleared his throat and attempted to return to being professional. "What would you like today, sir?"

"...Coffee?"

"Nothing but coffee?"

"Not... right now. I'm waiting for—"

"David!"

Doc only registered the name because Wash audibly flinched when he heard it. Before Doc could ask why, another guy had already sat down. The sort of guy that Doc quietly tried to avoid. Lots of tattoos. Very punk vibe. Looked like he could mess someone up. But right now, he looked quite cheerful.

"I was still half-sure that I was going to find nothing but an empty chair. Or that it was some messed up trick." The man grabbed Wash in what looked like a mixture between a hug and trying to strangle him. "What's up with that?"

Doc reached out, his hands awkwardly hovering in the air, as he said, "Can you, um... stop roughhousing? Please?"

"Sorry! Sorry," the tattooed guy said, before dropping into the seat opposite of Wash. "Uh, waiter, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Coffee. Cream, two sugars. And bacon. Whatever comes with bacon."

"Sure. And, uh..." Doc looked back at Wash, who seemed to be slowly sinking into his chair and trying to dissolve into some kind of invisible state. "Wash, you want anything?"

The tattooed guy snorted. "Wash... that's a weird name."

Wash quickly drew a hand across his throat while glaring at the guy. "Coffee."

"What kind of—"

"I don't care, just—" Wash put his head in his hands. "Just anything. As long as you have to leave to get it."

"...Oh." Doc immediately looked down at his feet. "Sorry, I, uh... sorry, yeah, I'll do that."

Doc hurried off. He'd half-forgotten for a moment that Washington was not Washington outside of work. He shouldn't have bothered him... He shouldn't have heard the name 'David,' that was a violation of privacy.

Even if David was a nice name.

* * *

"Cold, David. Cold," Felix said, once Doc had left.

"Be quiet. And don't use that name around him." Wash glared down at the plastic menu.

"So I should just call you your whoring name in public? Also, what kind of name is 'Wash' anyway. 'Washington' at least has a dignified sound to it, but 'Wash' sounds like an order to take a shower. Maybe that's what you were going for." Felix shrugged and pointed at Wash. "Anyway, not my fault you eat where your johns work."

"Clients."

"Man, it's the same thing. Now you just get paid more and have fancy pictures of yourself on the internet. I checked the Mother of Invention's site. Whoever took your photo is fantastic. Nice lighting. You look way better there than you do in real life. ...Measurements are a lie, too."

"Jesus, Felix. It's not weird that you looked that up at all." Wash sunk further into the chair. "And I didn't know he worked here. I thought Doc was a doctor."

"Maybe it's an ironic nickname. But that's not even what I wanted to talk about. What I wanted to know is why the hell didn't you tell me you weren't, you know... dead? I mean..." Felix brandished both his hands. "Last I saw you, you'd been stabbed. Blood everywhere. Still don't know how—"

"Someone stabbed me."

"Yeah, funnily enough, I picked up on that. I mean, was it a john that wouldn't pay up or something? It wasn't Locus, was it?"

"Locus? No. He would have arrested me. Eventually." Wash crossed his arms, staring out the window. "It was just someone who didn't want to pay. Their exact words were 'you're not worth ten bucks' and then out came a knife."

"And then?" Felix pressed him.

"I didn't die and I found a new job."

"I feel like stuff got left out. Why didn't you tell me you weren't dead?"

"It didn't occur to me that you would care."

"So cold. Brrrr. Hey, I called an ambulance. Didn't even go through your pockets for loose change when I thought you were going to bite it."

"Thanks," Wash muttered dryly.

"You're welcome." Felix propped his chin on his hand, grinning at Wash. "You should come back sometimes. You don't have to whore yourself out there any more, but come on. Everyone hanging around Chorus Alley are all 'what happened to that streetwalker with the stick up his butt?' They say it with love."

Wash snorted. "I'm sure they do."

"And for the record, I think you're worth at least twenty bucks." Felix grinned wider, and Wash felt a foot brush lightly against his own, rubbing his ankle softly.

"Felix. No. Not for twenty bucks." Wash didn't pull his foot away, though.

"It'll take ten minutes."

"I don't streetwalk any more."

"It's not streetwalking. It's... renewing an old contract between friends."

"Fifty."

"Seriously? Twenty-five."

"Fifty."

"You're supposed to go down while we haggle."

"No. Going down happens after we haggle."

"Heh. Seriously, twenty-five."

"I'll go thirty if it's just a blowjob. It's much cheaper than my usual rates now."

"Hm. I'm going to have to mull that over while I'm eating."

* * *

Doc was feeling a lot of emotion.

He felt guilty. He'd stepped over the line. He wasn't meant to bother Wash outside of the brothel.

Doc felt creepy enough already. He didn't need the temptation of becoming one of those freaks who stalked their crushes. No. Wait. Friends. Wash was a friend. Or at least Doc paid him enough to sometimes pretend they were friendly. Just friendly. Regardless of how much those pale eyes and that blond hair and freckled skin popped into his head at inappropriate times. Regardless of how often Doc had to shut his eyes and think of his oldest, most disease-riddled patients in order to make the... effects go away.

That was what Doc kept telling himself. While trying to ignore the half of him that wasn't guilty. The half of him that was seething quietly as he saw Felix playing footsies with Wash out of the corner of his eye.

Doc told himself that it was completely irrational to feel jealous, for so many reasons. Regardless of Wash's physical attractiveness, he was just Wash. He had to stay as just Wash. Doc didn't want to give into the temptation to look at the menus at the Mother of Invention and pick out whatever looked the dirtiest.

Furthermore, he was only a part of Wash's professional life. It was not fair of him to seethe over something that was happening in Wash's personal life. Just like it wasn't right for his brain to wander and think about what it be like to be able to call Wash by his real name like Felix did.

And finally, Wash was a prostitute. He made his living playing footsies with people. Followed by more graphic activities.

Jealousy was not what he should be feeling. But Doc couldn't help it.

As he poured out two cups of coffee, he glared at Felix's coffee and only added one sugar.

When he carried the two coffees over to Wash and Felix, he didn't say anything. Wash also wouldn't look at him, instead looking anywhere but Doc. Felix just looked at them both and made a 'brrrrr' sound.

* * *

Something that Carolina could count on to happen often was for Grif to practically kick down the door and start shouting at her. She was mostly tuning it out at the moment, but occasionally she would reply to the tirade of angry shouting.

"Grif, there's no reason why Sister can't hire people here. She's of age," Carolina sighed.

"But she's really irresponsible! She's going to get pregnant again!"

"We minimize the risks of pregnancy. All the workers here use as much protection as necessary."

"Yeah, but no birth control's a hundred percent effective, and she turns up here way too much! Those odds can't be beaten! And you let her hire twins. Twins!"

"One of them was female, so that has no impact on the risk of pregnancy."

"Twins!" Grif yelled.

"Hey, will you be quiet before Tex kicks you in the balls for being noisy again?"

Carolina would have, quite frankly, kicked Grif herself. But wounding clients—or even the relatives of clients, as Grif was always too huffy at the brothel to even try it—was frowned upon. The Director wouldn't be happy. The only reason Tex got away with it was because in the eyes of the Director she could do no wrong. Anything was fine as long as it was Tex doing it.

Though Carolina would probably receive blame for not stopping her.

Grif winced and immediately lowered his voice. "Yeah, okay, okay. But come on, there's nothing you can do to stop Sister?"

"Nothing reasonable."

"That is bullshit. Just because you're okay with your sister whoring herself out—"

"Not. My. Choice," Carolina said, her teeth gritted. "And you're really pushing the 'no-groin-kicking' policy I have."

"...Sorry. Yeah, I..." Grif crossed his arms, still looking pissed off but there was some shame mixed in there. "Sorry, too far. I mean, you could have done what I did when Sister had her 'I want to be a hooker' phase. I told her she'd have to sleep with old men. The words 'wrinkly old dicks' came up a lot."

"You're a wonderful big brother," Carolina said sarcastically.

"I try."

"There's nothing I can do about Sister. So all I can do for you is let you hire someone. That's my entire job. Coming back every week to yell isn't going to change what she does. Settle your problems with her, but don't bother me with them. Or forget Tex... I'll have Maine punch you in the groin. Repeatedly."

Grif slowly turned to look at where Maine was lingering in the corner. Maine just stared ominously back. Grif shuddered.

"Alright, alright." Grif scanned the room briefly, eyes squinted. He spotted C.T sitting on one of the sofas, and his glare got immediately more pronounced. "Whatever, I mean... I don't want to hire anyone. Don't care how fucking good she—they—are. Not like there's anything so damn great about—"

"The hell are you talking about?"

"...Nothing. Got distracted. Whatever, I'm out."

"Don't come back if it's not for sex," Carolina called after him.

He'd probably come back within a week.

* * *

Doc wondered if he should even go back. Meeting Wash at work had been nothing short of awkward. Doc has spent the time since then bubbling with guilt over what he'd done to Felix's coffee, and for bothering Wash outside of the brothel. For finding out, however accidental, that Wash was really David.

He decided to go one more time. He took a large tin of macarons. If Wash wanted him to leave, he'd just leave these with Carolina and never visit again. He at least had to try and apologize.

The macarons almost got knocked out of Doc's hand when Grif slammed open the front doors, muttering under his breath about how 'there wasn't anything special about short hookers with half-assed haircuts.' Doc didn't think he was even noticed. Well, maybe he could ask about that later. Or mind his own business. Probably the latter.

When Doc shuffled in, he didn't see Wash anywhere. Carolina, looking frustrated, spotted him and raised a hand. Stretching out the fingers, she mouthed 'five minutes.' She often did if Doc arrived at a time when Wash was occupied but free within a reasonable timeframe. She knew Doc only ever went for Wash.

Doc almost turned around and left immediately. But his feet glued themselves to the ground, and he settled for sitting down in the nearest chair.

Funny how sitting in the brothel had lost its awkwardness.

True to Carolina's miming, Wash wandered in about five minutes after. He was clearly trying to be casual, but his legs looked like they couldn't quite support themselves. Doc looked down at his tin of macarons, wondering whether he should just retreat. But no. He had to know whether this was finished or not.

Doc got to his feet and walked towards him with very slow, tentative foosteps. When Wash saw him, he skittered back a couple of steps, frowning. Doc stopped in his tracks. He mouthed the words 'should I leave?' Wash looked down, frown deepening, before shutting his eyes and gesturing for Doc to come over. Doc did, but very nervously.

"Before you say anything, I just want to say that I'm so sorry for intruding on your privacy and for doing horrible things to Felix's coffee—"

"What."

"I am so very sorry! I don't know what came over me and I heard things I shouldn't have and you can have these macarons if you want. If you want me to leave, I can do that and I won't ever bother you again—"

"Doc."

Doc went silent. Wash scratched the back of his head, still looking troubled.

"Look. You didn't do anything wrong. You worked there, and I just got short-tempered because... well..."

"I'm not supposed to know your name, right?"

"Amongst... other things." Wash looked sideways at Doc. "...Why are you called Doc?"

"Huh? I'm a doctor at the free clinic. Sometimes. I run two jobs. But yeah, I mean, people kept calling me Doc and it just stuck, even if I'm not there. You know? Uh..." Doc held out the macarons. "You, uh... you still want to play cards?"

Wash thought about it for a very long time. All Doc could think of was about Wash saying that rejecting people wasn't done unless there was a good reason for it. He must have been bothered to even hesitate.

Doc decided he should leave.

Then Wash said, "Okay."

Doc was a very weak man. So he just went along with it.

* * *

The Mother of Invention definitely needed more women.

Tucker propped his chin on his hand, staring moodily at the wall of the little restaurant area of The Mother of Invention. He'd hoped to hire someone—anyone female, really, he didn't give a shit who—but it was apparently a busy night.

Carolina had told him South would be free in half an hour. So rather than head home, he'd decided to just grab some food. No point in heading home right now, anyway. No-one there.

The restaurant area was decently crowded. A lot of people that came here weren't even aware that the other side of this building was a brothel. Decent food, not too badly-priced. As long as you could ignore the constant arguing from Eta and Iota, arguing about how one of them cooked the meat wrong or the other broke the spice rack or whatever, it was nice.

As Tucker took a bite of his burger, he saw a kid sitting in one of the nearby chairs, peering over at him. The kid that often swept the floors, though he wasn't doing so now. What was his name... Theta? Tucker had always been kind of bemused at the fact that they let a ten-year-old work here, but he always seemed to stay within the restaurant portion. He never ventured into the bar area.

Once he noticed that Tucker had seen him, he immediately looked down. Tucker finished the mouthful of burger he had before picking up the little paper napkins that came with the food. He waved it slightly, enough to catch the corner of Theta's eye. Once Theta was watching, Tucker waved the napkin again, once, twice, before covering it with his hands. With a grin, he then raised his now empty hands at the kid, having seemingly managed to make the napkin vanish into thin air.

Theta smiled brightly at the magic trick, though he didn't say anything. It was an expression Tucker saw on Junior a lot. Tucker was a veritable goldmine of useless but flashy talents, and he'd learned that magic tricks amused kids the best.

"I bet it's up your sleeve," said a familiar voice. Tucker yelped, startled.

"Jesus Christ, North, what the fuc—er, fudge?" Tucker quickly amended his language. North grinned down at him before looking over at Theta.

"It's alright, Theta. Tucker's kind of a jerk, but he's not bad." Theta crept over, but quickly hid behind North, staring around him with wide eyes. His red, curly hair and purple eyes were completely different from North's, but there were similarities in his face that gave away that they were related.

"That your kid, North?"

"Yeah. That's Theta. Theta, say hi."

"...Hello," Theta mumbled.

"Hey!" Tucker held up a hand, telling Theta to wait a second, before fake-sneezing into both his hands. He re-produced the napkin that he'd vanished earlier. "Aha, so that's where that went."

Theta covered his mouth to stifle the giggles. North just smiled while rolling his eyes.

"Theta, you ready to go?"

"Um... I left my bag with Iota. He confiscated it."

"Ohh, did you try to smuggle fireworks around again?"

"One of my friends from school planted contraband on me," Theta insisted. North shook his head before ruffling his hair.

"Alright, well, tell Iota to give them back. Say I said it was okay, alright?"

"Okay. I'll be back." Theta walked off towards the kitchens. North slid into the chair opposite of Tucker.

"Gotta say, Tucker. Never thought you'd be good with kids."

"I have a kid. Jackass," Tucker said amiably.

"Yeah? You a single dad or just a really horrible cheater? I mean, don't get me wrong, I've been with cheaters. Inevitable, in this profession. Most of them forget to take the wedding rings off."

"Right, like I'd ever get tied down. Fuck that shit. Single dad. Junior's with his other dad at the moment, though."

"...Other dad, huh?"

"Still not gay," Tucker insisted. When North gave him a skeptical look, he hurriedly added, "Long story! Seriously, really long."

"Alright, sure. And how happy you sounded when you..." North tilted his head and made a whistling noise before continuing. "That was just completely straight, non-aroused happiness. You were probably thinking about a girl."

"Hell yeah I was." Tucker took another bite of his burger, not bothering to object when North stole a couple of fries from his plate. "Single dad, too, or...?"

"Single dad, yeah."

"What, was his mother one of your clients or—"

"Tucker?"

"Yeah?"

"You seem like a nice guy, so I'm just going to say this up front. ...Don't bring up that topic, okay? It's not something I want to talk about."

"Right, zipping it." After a couple of moments of silence, Tucker asked, "So, can I ask you something less private, then?"

"Sure."

"Theta looks about the age for middle school. You know any good ones? I need to find a school for Junior where I can understand the instructors. All this 'blargh honk' stuff is hell at parent-teacher meetings."

* * *

That meeting at the diner faded into the background again, and soon it was almost as if it never happened. Sometimes there would be moments where Doc would catch Wash looking grumpy—grumpier—but Wash would brush this off if Doc ever brought it up.

About six months after their first meeting, they were playing card games and quietly talking. This time, they were playing blackjack. Doc was filling in most of the talking, but that was nothing new. Currently, he was talking about yoga.

"—so I tried to get Church into yoga, because he is always so wound up and angry. He gave in after about two months of pestering—which I still feel kind of bad about—and about five minutes in he threw a shoe at me. So I kind of gave that up. I think it would do you good, if you don't mind me saying. I mean, you already have a really nice physique, but it's also really relaxing and... and..."

Doc trailed off after realising that Wash was even quieter than normal.

This turned out to be because Wash had fallen asleep. He'd dozed off in the middle of Doc's rambling about yoga, using his arm as a pillow and still holding one of the cookies they'd been using as gambling chips in his other hand.

Doc blinked, holding the deck of cards he'd been shuffling. He watched Wash for a couple of moments, noting that the shadows under his eyes seemed darker than usual.

It seemed incredibly cruel to wake him up. Not least because he looked so unusually peaceful asleep, instead of his usual crazy-eyed somehow-both-intense-and-bored state. Doc was okay with that state, of course. But peaceful was nice.

For the next twenty minutes, Doc sat on the bed, alternating between drumming his fingers on the bed and trying not to hum, and playing solitaire by himself. It got kind of dull, but it was alright. He would have liked to sleep, as well, but then who would know when the hour was over? He ignored the fact that sleeping in the same bed as Wash was an idea that made warmth pool in his stomach.

Doc was setting up his third solitaire game (he was terrible at solitaire and kept starting over) when Wash made a little snuffling noise in his sleep before curling up tighter. He mumbled in his sleep before burying his face deeper in his arm.

Pausing in the middle of laying out his solitaire game, Doc absently gazed at Wash. He felt tingly, but tried to ignore it. He was definitely not looking down at Wash's torso as he breathed in and out steadily (though he was sure there was a washboard pun that could be used concerning it) or squinting at the occasional scar or the trail of blond hair going down to—

Doc covered his face and made himself stop looking. It was creepy. He was being so creepy. Maybe he should just leave. Would Carolina let Wash keep sleeping for the rest of the hour or would he have to go back to work?

Doc was still deciding what to do when Wash lifted his head abruptly, blinking.

"Whah?" he mumbled, looking around. "What are... wait. Wait, did I—"

"You fell asleep," Doc said helpfully.

Doc was not prepared for how abruptly Wash started yelling at him.

"You didn't wake me up?!"

"You... you looked tired!"

"I don't care how tired I looked! I'm meant to be working! I'm meant to be working for you, so you're not meant to just let me sleep unless you get off on that garbage!" Wash shouted. Doc crawled backwards a bit, spooked. "Look, you pay a ridiculous amount for just sitting here and playing cards, the least you should do is wake me up if I fall asleep in the middle of it! You shouldn't be—"

Wash stopped mid-sentence, like he'd just realised he was shouting. He crossed his arms, glaring daggers at the cards in front of him.

Doc wasn't sure what to say. He just quietly started packing away the cards while Wash pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. As he scooped up the last few cards, Wash finally spoke. His voice was level this time.

"How do you afford this?"

"Huh?"

Wash opened his eyes again, but he still wasn't looking at Doc. "How do you afford this on the salary of a waiter?"

"I'm not just a waiter. I get a little bit of money from the free clinic. I mean, mostly donations."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Uh, well, maybe I took a few extra shifts... here and there... Skipped lunch once or twice. No big deal." Although Doc suddenly realised how often he'd been cutting corners to make sure he had enough money.

Wash stared at the wall. Doc was reminded forcibly of that day at the diner. Wash hadn't looked at him since... since he found out Doc was a waiter.

"Were you only accepting me because you thought I was some kind of wealthy doctor?"

"You make it sound like I'm gold-digging when you phrase it like that," Wash said dryly, half-smiling for a moment before it faded back into his usual frown. "Look, it's not judgment because you're not wealthy. I don't think I have room to judge anyone's job. It's just generally... the types of people that hire whores purely to do something normal with them... normally they're rich eccentrics. Most people would just play poker with strangers."

"I don't like actually betting."

"I figured that. The point is, ripping you off in exchange for my lousy company—"

"You're not—"

"—is something I was fine with when I thought you could afford to waste money. It's not something you should be taking extra shifts to do. If you're going to be a dumbass with your money, you should at least..."

"I told you I didn't want to hire anyone else, remember? Stop putting yourself down, Wash! Come on! Put some self-esteem in your coffee! Although really you should try some herbal tea, it's much more—you know what, that's not even the point."

Wash made a face at him. "Yeah, you know what... this, uh... this is getting unprofessional, so I'm just going to—" He slid off the bed and took a step towards the door.

"I'm not taking refunds and I paid for an hour, so you stop right there!" Doc called out. He felt bad about it, as it was probably the strongest order he'd given in his life. Apart from 'stop bleeding' at the free clinic. Wash did stop. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's fine," Wash said, looking amused. He didn't sit back down again, though.

"Uhhh... is there anything I can do to, uh... help your self-esteem issues? I wanted to be a therapist once, but, well... one thing after another got in the way, and—"

"It's fine, I don't think this is exactly a therapy issue." Wash shrugged. "Look, my value is based on one thing. And that thing is my ability to screw people into the mattress in creative fashions. Or vice versa." Doc went bright red, and Wash grinned wider. "Still embarrassed, huh?"

"Uh. Maybe." Though it was more because now Doc had very vivid mental images dancing in his skull.

"Well, I'm fine with the basics. But any common streetwalker can cover the basics. So unless you have knowledge of how to do everything on the menu, I doubt there's any way you can help."

"...Is it all sex things?" Doc strained his memory to try and remember anything off that menu. There were a few items that he knew nothing about, but that made him go redder just thinking about it. But he remembered— "I thought I saw massages on there."

"Yeah, well... one, those massages end how you'd expect anything to end here. Two, I'm really bad at that. Apparently I massage like a confused karate student."

Doc clucked his tongue. "Ohh, that's terrible. Well, uh, I took some classes on massaging. I could recommend some good ones. Massaging is really good for relaxation. And then, uh... you can just transfer your knowledge into... using it here."

Wash studied Doc for a moment, tilting his head. His expression was difficult to read.

"...You've taken these classes, huh?"

"Sure! I mean, I mostly give massages to Donut when he whines about there being cricks in his neck and back. Which wouldn't happen if he didn't keep spending the entire weekend dancing and trying to show off moves that, if you don't mind me being a little judgmental for a moment, he doesn't actually have."

"Mind giving me some pointers?"

"Like... diagrams?"

"No. I mean like showing me. With your hands. I mean, I assume that's what you use to massage people."

Doc's brain short-circuited a little and went blank for a few moments, and when it returned to the conversation at hand, Wash was saying:

"—just figured that way I'd know if your recommendations told you well or not."

"Fgagn," Doc eloquently replied.

"...What."

"I mean... sure." Though his words won't quite lining up with the incomprehensible babbling that his brain was doing. "Uh, um, so... sit down. And I'll just... basic techniques... you don't have to take anything off! Just... neck... things. Make... feel good."

"...Are you alright?"

"I'm fine! Just..." Doc waved his hands at the bed and Wash sat down, looking mildly bemused.

Doc tried to will himself to calm down. It wasn't like he'd never given massages. Or touched people. This was a professional—well, semi-professional—thing. He was not exploiting Wash. In fact, he was helping Wash. Yeah. That made it okay.

"Okay, um... so, uh, with basic neck massages..." Doc's hands hovered a couple of inches from Wash before he pressed down two fingers on each side, tracing lines on Wash's skin from the base of the ear down the sides of the neck, then along the tops of the shoulders and back again. "I mean, if you just... press down like this. Two fingers on each side... if you're going to fall asleep again try to warn me, but it's okay if you do..."

Doc continued explaining what he was doing in a very calm, soothing tone of voice that was completely at odds with the fact that his brain was screaming. He was far too conscious of how warm Wash was and how his muscles shifted under Doc's fingers as he rubbed little circles into the skin.

"Mm... definitely feels different from what I was doing," Wash muttered a few minutes later, as Doc paused in between explaining some techniques, trying to gather his words from the irrational part of his brain.

"In a good or bad way?"

"Good." Doc couldn't see Wash's face from where he was, but he could feel him relaxing. "You're better at this than making coffee."

"I'm sorry. I don't really like making coffee, so I guess I don't know what good coffee tastes like."

"How could you not like coffee, it's—" Doc didn't find out what coffee was, because Wash suddenly breathed in sharply when Doc pressed his thumb down near the base of his neck, moving in deeper, wider circles.

"Still good?" Doc asked, his hands freezing for a moment.

"Mhrr," was all that came out, though it sounded... approving. Doc took it as a sign to continue. Wash didn't make a noise that obvious again (and Doc might have been a little disappointed about it) but occasionally he would make appreciative little hums under his breath.

A few minutes later, Doc said, "And to finish up, you just... press down on the shoulders like so. 1... 2... 3..." He pressed down and rubbed along Wash's neck and shoulders in long, firm strokes. "Now don't you feel relaxed and more knowledgeable now?"

"Buh. ...I mean, yeah. Yeah, uh..." Wash turned his head towards Doc. He still looked sleepy, but in a more pleasant way. His eyes were unusually glazed. "...Yeah."

Silence. One of Doc's hands was still rubbing Wash's neck, and he was just gazing at Wash's face. The internal screaming had dulled into a vague, buzzing noise that still managed to overpower everything. Wash was... saying something. Maybe. His mouth was moving. Doc couldn't hear what he was saying.

Doc was sure he wouldn't have leaned forward and kissed Wash if he'd been thinking straight.

Two seconds of no response, long enough for the buzzing to dull slightly. Long enough for Doc's self-control to try and resurface, struggling like a drowning man in an ocean that was filled with hot, crazy-eyed mermen. Then Wash reached up to grasp Doc's face and brought him closer, and that little nagging voice was submerged again.

It wasn't gentle, once Wash responded properly. Not painfully rough... not like some people Doc had been with... but a lot of teeth and a very firm grip. The roughness was off-set by the fact that he tasted like pancakes. Doc's mind surfaced briefly upon realising this—_who'd made him pancakes, did Wash like pancakes?_—but he was distracted again when Wash pressed his hands to Doc's chest, pushing him down onto the bed before burying his face in Doc's neck, biting at the soft, brown skin.

Doc reached up and twisted his fingers in Wash's hair, eyes shut tight. And then he messed up.

"Mmh... David..."

Wash froze. Doc froze. The happy buzzing that had blocked out any coherent thought slowly drained out of Doc's head. There was silence. Then Wash quietly sat up properly, eyebrows furrowed and looking at Doc like he'd grown a second head.

"Wash. I'm Wash," he said quietly.

"...Right. I know. I'm, uh..."

It might have been less awkward if Doc had said a completely different name. At least Wash was probably used to that. Doc shuffled backwards off the bed, adjusting his slightly rumpled collar while not looking at Wash.

"I'm sorry. I... I didn't think," Doc mumbled.

Wash didn't say anything. Both of them just looked anywhere around the room but at each other.

Doc kicked himself inside his head. He'd messed up. It wasn't just that he'd given in. Maybe that on its own wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. But just for a moment... he'd forgotten. He'd forgotten that he was only meant to know Wash. He wasn't meant to know about David. David wasn't meant to exist for him.

He'd forgotten Donut's advice.

"...I can't do this," Doc said quietly. This was enough for Wash to look at him again, but Doc kept his eyes on the floor. He couldn't look at those eyes. Looking there had started this. "I... I just can't. If I do..." He struggled with his words for a few moments before saying, "I can't end up like Church. Hiring the girl—guy—I like and pretending that we're... something we aren't. It's not fair to dump all that on you. ...It's not fair to either of us. And I think... I think if we went through what we were almost doing..."

Doc chanced a glance up. Caught those pale eyes for just a moment.

"I don't think I'd ever be able to stop. I... I just gotta call it off now before I become some... some sad sack clinging to someone who has no choice but to hang around with me, getting horribly jealous and ruining people's coffee just because they get to be a part of your actual life."

Doc picked up the deck of cards, slipping them in his pocket.

"I, uh... I'll write down the massage classes and give them to Carolina or something, they'll pass it on. I... I hope it helps. Sorry."

Doc didn't look at Wash again as he hurriedly left.

* * *

Wash didn't leave the room for a while longer. He just stood there silently, trying to figure out what had just happened. The only certainty about the situation he had was that it was not the result he wanted. Maybe he'd wanted Doc to stop wasting his money, and this seemed as decent a solution in theory as any... but it sure didn't make him feel right.

He eventually left only because Carolina would have come looking for him if he didn't get back out there. The moment he left the room, he heard a loud voice nearby.

"Hi, Mister Washingtub!"

"...Caboose. Hey. ...What are you even—" Wash looked at Caboose, who was lingering around one of the blue panels that controlled the doors. "...Why are you holding a USB stick."

"I am not holding a stick, Mr. Washingtub. I do not have a dog to play fetch with."

"...Are you trying to download FILSS?"

The blue panel lit up brighter, and FILSS said, "Hello, Washington. Did you have a bad day? Your client left approximately sixteen minutes early."

"What's a kite-ant, Washingtub?"

"It's a customer, Caboose. ...Seriously, why are you here? You don't look like you, uh... want the services here."

"The special hugging services? No. I just wanted to talk to Sheila."

"Who?"

"Caboose was having trouble with my default designation. I gave him a more easily pronounced alternative," FILSS said.

"...Why."

"He was kind and asked how my day was going. A little charm goes a long way, Washington."

"I also made her a muffin. But she got me to eat it for her because computers don't have mouths. But she still said it was delicious!" Caboose said happily, going slightly pink.

Wash looked between Caboose and FILSS. He supposed he should have been worried about security concerns, but FILSS was far too complicated to fit on a USB stick anyway. He wasn't even sure there was any way to insert one.

"Uh. Right. Well, you shouldn't mess around with that... particular terminal." Wash listened quietly at the background noise, picking out the nearest noises that he recognised. "I think Florida is in there. You don't want to walk in on him and his clients. ...They're into some really dirty things."

"Like not washing their hands?"

"...Sure."

"Ooh. Doc left that room earlier. He looked sad. Did you and the doctor have a fight?" Caboose asked.

"Maybe. ...I guess so."

"My mama said it is always good to talk after a fight."

"Well, things aren't always that simple, Caboose."

"...Why?"

Wash found he didn't really have an answer. Or at least not one he could explain to Caboose.

* * *

Doc spent the next three days in perhaps the worst mood that he could recall ever being in. He tried his best not to snap at Donut, but he was feeling so grumpy and upset that he'd gone so far as to raise his voice at Donut for drinking the last of the chamomile tea. Donut had almost cried, and Doc had spent the next hour apologising.

But it was alright. He just had to work through this slump and try to think about Wash as little as possible. Doc was not going to break his promise and go back. He was even handing any spare money to Donut for safekeeping to make sure he couldn't afford it. Just in case he had a weak moment.

It was like breaking a smoking habit. It would be healthy in the long run, but right now it felt like the worst thing ever. He probably would have gone crawling back if it hadn't been for Donut gently encouraging him to stick with it. Though regularly bringing up that 'Wash fucks like a tree stump so you're not missing anything' wasn't exactly helping.

Working was almost welcome. At least it kept Doc's mind off it for the most part. He was generally too busy pouring coffee and taking orders, or trying to help people at the free clinic, to keep mooning over things. It was the times in between that were the worst.

The usual rush of customers that happened around midday at the diner was starting to slow down. That meant Doc could go on break soon. He didn't want to go on break right now, though. He finished serving a couple of customers and was looking around for someone else when one of the other waiters waved him over.

"Hey! Hey, Frank?"

"Uh. Yes?"

"There was a guy looking for you. He said he'd wait outside until you weren't busy. Thought you should know. I can send him away, though. He looked kinda mad. Eyes like an ax murderer. You haven't been dating crazies again, have you? That giggly nutter was bad enough." The waiter looked nervous as he mentioned this, and Doc couldn't blame him. O'Malley hadn't been the easiest person to deal with.

"No, it's okay. If... if it's who I think it is, they're nothing like O'Malley."

Doc didn't know why Wash would have turned up. He wondered whether going out there would cause a relapse. He decided to risk it.

Wash was sitting on a bench outside. It still felt strange to see him in normal clothes. A reminder that, right now, 'Washington' was not his name. Not to anyone but Doc. When Doc approached, Wash climbed to his feet quickly.

"...Uh. Hey," Wash said.

"Hi."

Silence. Wash shifted from foot to foot while Doc didn't look Wash in the face. Then Wash pulled something out of his pocket and shoved it towards Doc.

"Here." It was an envelope. Doc took it cautiously.

"What's—"

"I think that's... half of what you've paid me altogether. I tried to get the rest, but uh... it's really difficult. And I probably owe you a bit more, because that massage lesson should count for something, right? I mean... you know what you're doing and all." These words just tumbled out of Wash, and he kept shifting from foot to foot, similarly not looking at Doc.

Doc opened his mouth to say something, but Wash waved at him to stop.

"Sorry, just let me get this out. I don't really do emotional things." Wash scratched his arm, frowning at the ground, before continuing. "Look, I... I should have said this earlier. I guess I didn't think it through enough. But I gave some thought to what you said.

"Doc... you're, uh... well..." Wash breathed in deeply, before plowing ahead. "I just wanted to say that I think you're okay. I mean... better than okay. At first I thought you were just weird and embarrassed... and you still are those things."

"...Thanks?"

"I'm not done. Talking to you all the time... it was almost like a break. There was no pressure. No expectations. It was... simple. I mean that in a nice way, not in a... Caboose way. And then it got all mixed up when, well..." Wash pointed at the diner. "You know. Anyway, a lot of bad feelings got in there, but I thought it over some and decided... I don't really care."

Doc looked up. He hadn't fully grasped what Wash was talking about yet, but... Wash was still looking intensely at a nearby brick wall rather than at Doc himself.

"Listen, I just... I'm all for you not wanting to be like Church. He's a really creepy guy, sometimes. Don't get me started on some others I know who get... obsessed." Wash shivered. "And I don't think I want to know what you did to Felix's coffee. The, uh... the point is..."

Wash let out a long breath before reaching out and grasping Doc's hand lightly, tugging at a couple of the fingers. Still oddly fascinated with the wall rather than Doc.

"I guess... I wouldn't mind trying to be a part of your actual life," he muttered.

Doc stared at him. "You... you want to actually... you mean hang out? Outside the brothel?"

"Well, yeah. If you're interested."

Doc looked down at the envelope. He'd gone pink in the face and he was suddenly wearing the widest smile.

"...First off." He pushed the envelope back into Wash's free hand. "That money's yours. Fair and square. That's in the past, and nothing's going to change that the past was a professional relationship." Wash opened his mouth to argue, but Doc shushed him. "Secondly..." He tightened his grip on the hand holding his own. "That is definitely something I'd like to try."

Wash finally tore his eyes away from the wall. "Yeah?"

"Of course! So!" Doc shifted his hand, turning the handholding into a handshake. "Since I never introduced myself outside of a bedroom... Hi. Frank Dufresne."

"...David. Nice to meet you," Wash said, a small smile crossing his face.

"Nice to meet you, too." Doc shifted his hand again, returning them to just holding hands. "Sooo, I'm on break now. And I know this place nearby that serves really nice herbal teas..."

"I'll pay. If you won't let me give the money back, at least let me do that. ...Do they have coffee?"

"Eugh, coffee. I'm sure they have something you can get jittery on."

"You don't know what you're missing."


End file.
